


Drowning In Cliche

by QueenOfBelmair



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Apocalypto_12 - Freeform, Cliche, Cute, Kissing, M/M, Markiplier - Freeform, Rewrite, Tattoos, Teenagers, i just needed to do something cute okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfBelmair/pseuds/QueenOfBelmair
Summary: Mark's summer activities include prepping for college, enjoying the nice weather, and peeping on the kid next door.





	Drowning In Cliche

**Author's Note:**

> It's cute and cliche and darn it here ya go.

I watch the minutes tick by. Four-ten, four-twelve, thirteen, fourteen...  
  
Four-fifteen PM.  
  
I stand and head over to my chair by the window. Sitting on the windowsill is a can of soda dripping condensation and a small pair of binoculars.  
  
Outside the window is him.  
  
He’s bright-eyed and could easily stand in for a Greek sculpture. The polar opposite of me. Where I'm all bed-head and stupid t-shirts, he’s perfect curls and polos. His friends probably fuss with their hair and debate over what restaurant they would look more trendy sitting in front of.  
  
God, he was perfect, and so out of my fucking league.  
  
He lives three houses down from me. Every day at four, he does house work for my neighbors. Watering plants, picking up leaves, and the subject of many of my wet dreams, pool cleaning. Outside of these one-sided meetings, I rarely saw him. The educational system had a bit to do with that. I was nineteen; I'd taken a year off, but in four months I would be leaving for college. He had just recently graduated, and as far as I knew he would be leaving for college too come fall.  
  
Which is why I had decided to finally make my move.  
  
Today he was out there in a t-shirt and shorts, cleaning the pool. I can't even count on both hands how many times I’ve played out a cliché meet cute in my head that leads to something straight out of my browser history. I usually watch him the whole two hours he's out there. Today is different. Today I talk to him.

I leave the can of soda unfinished and toss the binoculars on my bed, heading downstairs to the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge.  
  
Wade said I was stupid. Ethan said the people that ran with our crowd were much prettier.  
  
Closing the front door behind me, I begin my walk down the street. I'd been practicing my speech in my head for about a week now. I mean, I didn't want to seem like the window-peeking-weirdo I actually was, y'know?  
  
His back was to me, so he thankfully didn't see me running my hand through my hair and chewing my lip. Finally, before he realized there was some borderline peeping tom standing behind him, I spoke up.  
  
"Hey. Your name's Tyler, right?"  
  
He turns around slowly, propping himself up on the net for the pool. Those eyes, way too blue to be real, stare back into mine.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I was just outside cleaning my car, and I noticed that you were out here in the sun working, so I thought I ought to bring you a bottle of water."  
  
He smiles this tiny almost-smirk (fuck, that’s stupidly attractive) and takes the bottle of water from my hand, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink.  
  
"You were cleaning your car in ninety degree weather in black skinny jeans and a dark blue shirt?"  
  
_Way to go, idiot. You can save this, think fast._  
  
"Oh, I had the AC blasting, no big deal."  
  
_That’s your save?_  
  
He nods silently, taking a few more sips and studying me.   
  
"You look familiar. Your name is...Mark. Mark Fischbach, right?"  
  
"Yeah," I swell with happiness; he actually remembers me. "I graduated a year ahead of you."  
  
"Yeah, cool. Thanks for the water."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Annnnd…here we were. I couldn't figure out what to do after this point, because I honestly never thought I’d get this far. We stood there in a semi-awkward silence while he finished the bottle of water, tossing it in the trash can beside the backdoor.   
  
Then again, I suppose we don't need a conversation starter to pick things back up, because when I turn to head back to my room with my tail between my legs, I slip on a puddle of water and fall fully clothed into the pool.  
  
_Now you're an idiot and a fucking klutz._  
  
I could hear him laughing before I even resurfaced. Once I did and shook my hair out of my eyes, I could see him doubled over, clutching his stomach.  
  
"Oh, you think that's funny?"  
  
Without even blinking I grab his hand (his  _hand_ ; I'm actually touching his  _hand_ ) and pull him in with me. When he resurfaces, I can see his nipples through his shirt.

Lord have mercy on dreams tonight.  
  
"Ha ha, really hilarious."

For a split second I think I've pissed him off, but he smiles and steps out of the pool, offering me a hand. I take it, climbing back up onto the grass.

Damn it, there's a breeze and now I'm freezing. Off goes my shirt; I sigh as I wring it out.  
  
"Hey, you've got a little ink under there."  
  
He touches his fingers to my chest, tracing along the tiny design. It’s a stupid stick-and-poke I let Ethan do while we were tipsy of a bee coming out of a skull’s eye socket. Before I have a chance to say anything he's  _pulling up his fucking shirt_  and I'm expecting a cheesy one liner before the music kicks in and I have to start calling him Daddy. While that mental image isn’t unwelcome, what greets me is something entirely unexpected.  
  
Tats. And not just someone's name on a banner between two sparrows or some little trail of pawprints, but an intricate chest piece of vines and hearts, and one across his stomach in the shape of a constellation.  
  
"Whoa..."  
  
I reach out a hand slowly, expecting him to jerk away. He doesn't.

"These are fantastic."  
  
"Yours isn't half bad either."  
  
"Shut up, you're such a liar."  
  
He laughs and takes my damp shirt from my hands, draping it over a chair in the sun.  
  
"I'm serious. It’s almost kind of…cute I guess? The bee is cute."   
  
This is actually going better than expected. Thank you, clumsy feet.  
  
He's inching closer to me now. I can feel his breath on my naked chest, can see my reflection in his pupils.

And no background music.

Shit, this is real.  
  
"You’re cute too, Mark."  
  
"What-"

He cuts me off with a kiss.  
  
Tyler motherfucking Scheid is kissing me, with my shirt four feet away and his shirt still pulled up and our wind-chilled skin pressed together. No tongue, just the heat of our lips and his fingers digging into my hips.

My shivers are no longer from the cold.

Finally he breaks away, panting and licking his sore lips. I'm the one to smile this time, sliding my fingers to his scalp, finally able to run my fingers through those curls.  
  
"You aren’t half bad either."

“Okay, now you shut up.”

“Make me.”

**Author's Note:**

> A re-write of some of my old Livejournal work. I figured I can't be all about the hardcore kink ALL the time. Gotta throw some smooches in between the spankings, y'know?


End file.
